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Armistice  Day 
Program 


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I  Can  ^^  rrow  t0 

be  t  Rare  Books 

It's  So  ,       

If  I  Were  the  Ruler  of  Fairyland. 

Little  Sleep-head  Dolly. 

When  My  Dolly  Grows  to  be  a  Lady. 

Little  Housewives  Club. 

The  Little  Soldier  and  the  Red  Cross 

Maid. 
The  Little  Tradesladies. 
Miss  Cherry-blossom's  Party. 
Upsetting  Gravity. 
When    Silver    Moon    Meets    Spotted 

Horse. 
Youthful  Politicians. 


ELDR1DGE  ENTERTAINMENT  HOUSE 

FRANKLIN,  OHIO,     also  944  S.  Logan,  DENVER,  COLO. 


ARMISTICE 
PROGRAM 


Compiled  by 
ALMA  LUNDMAN 


Copyright  1924,  Eldridge  Entertainment  House 


PRICE  25  CENTS 


-PUBLISHED    BY- 


ELDRIDGE  ENTERTAINMENT  HOUSE, 
Franklin,  Ohio  also  Denver,  Colo, 


922  S.  Ogden 


Armistice  Day  Program 


I.     "Armistice  Day:   Lest  We  Forget" — Anonymous. 
II.     "'You  Have  Come  Home  From  France." 

— Jean  Rushmore  Patterson. 

III.  "The  Bivouac  of  the  Dead."— Theodore  O'Hara. 

IV.  "Unknown" — Bruce  Barton. 

V.     "In  Memory  of  America's  Dead     in     the     Great 

War" — J.  Carson  Miller. 
VI.     "Homeward  Bound" 

— George  Edward  Woodberry. 
VII.     "The  Thousand  Years  of  Peace" 

— Lord  Alfred  Tennyson. 


Chairman  in  charge  of  program  will  first  give  "Ar- 
mistice Day :  Lest  We  Forget"  as  an  introduction  to  the 
program. 

He  will  then  make  the  following  announcements,  one 
before  each  of  the  other  numbers : 

"(Name  of  speaker)  will  give  us  a  scene  that  oc- 
curred in  one  of  our  American  homes  when  the  soldier 
husband  returned  crippled  and  maimed." 

(After  this  announcement  someone  will  give  "You 
Have  Come  Home  From  France.") 

"Our  next  number  is  "The  Bivouac  of  the  Dead,"  by 
(name  of  speaker). 

"We  will  now  have  Bruce  Barton's  'Unknown,'  by 
(name  of  speaker). 

"(Name  of  speaker)  will  give  us  'Epicedium — In 
Memorv  of  America's  Dead  in  the  Great  War." 


Armistice  Day  Program 


"If  we  could  have  been  on  the  ships  with  our  sol- 
diers as  they  were  returning  once  more  to  their  native 
shores,  we  could  fully  appreciate  the  feeling  of  joyful  an- 
ticipation as  expressed  in  the  following  selection,  "Home- 
ward Bound'.     (Name  of  speaker". 

"We  are  still  hopeful  that  the  World  War  is  the 
closing  of  the  great  war  epoch  in  history,  and  that  Arm- 
istice Day  of  1918  marks  the  beginning  of  the  era  when 
wars  will  be  no  more.  Though  there  are  at  present  some 
disturbances  beyond  the  waters,  we  serenely  and  confi- 
dently hope  that  this  turmoil,  too,  will  soon  be  put  to  rest. 

"The  closing  number  of  our  program  is  Tennyson's 
'The  Thousand  Years  of  Peace,'  by  (name  of  speaker). 


ARMISTICE  DAY:  LEST  WE  FORGET 

November  Eleventh  may  well  be  remembered  so  long 
as  mankind  finds  instructions  in  history.  It  marks  one 
of  the  most  stupendous  achievements  in  human  experi- 
ence. On  November  eleventh  the  work  of  the  soldier  was 
completed  and  the  work  of  the  diplomat  begun.  There 
are  no  words  that  can  characterize  adequately  the  endur- 
ance, the  heroism  and  the  devotion  of  the  millions  who 
offered  their  lives  and  all  that  life  contained  in  order 
that  victory  might  be  won  and  mankind  freed  from  the 
curse  of  militarism  and  war. 

The  breakdown  of  Germany,  so  often  confidently 
predicted,  had  to  await  the  entry  into  the  war  of  the 
United  States,  and  the  development  of  American  military 
power.  If  the  United  States  had  remained  aloof,  the 
war  would  have  ended  in  a  draw,  and  a  draw  not  alto- 
gether favorable  to  the  allies.  The  scales  were  tottering 
in  the  balance;  America  leaped  into  one  of  them  and 
weighed  it  to  the  ground.  That  was  her  service  and  her 
responsibilitjr.  America  performed  her  service  well.  Her 
sons  and  daughters  gave  their  services,  their  lives,  their 
all,  upon  the  altar  of  Democracy.  The  greatest  service 
that  we,  the  living,  can  give  is  far  too  small  for  so  great 


Armistice  Day  Program 


a  sacrifice.  Gladly,  eagerly,  and  willingly  should  we  do 
all  within  our  power  to  consecrate  and  commemorate 
those  who  so  freely  gave  their  last  measure  of  devotion 
that  the  world  might  be  safe  for  humanity  and  that  De- 
mocracy might  live. 

Years  have  passed  since  that  glorious  and  eventful 
November  11,  1918,  when  the  armistice  was  signed  which 
ended  the  greatest  conflict  in  history.  And  in  commem- 
oration of  that  day  we,  this  morning,  pay  our  tribute  and 
our  respects  to  those  who  never  returned,  to  those  who 
returned  crippled  and  maimed,  and  also  to  those  who  re- 
turned sound  in  mind  and  body,  who,  after  witnessing 
the  horrors  and  cruelties  of  war  [returned  to  their  native 
shores. 

Let  us  stop  for  a  little  while  to  think  of  the  sacri- 
fices made  in  behalf  of  a  better  world  by  the  men  who 
laid  down  their  lives  and  by  the  women  and  children 
whose  suffering  in  that  period  of  warfare  had  been  en- 
dured in  the  earnest  hope  that  wars  might  cease. 

Armistice  Day,  then,  as  each  succeeding  November 
brings  another  anniversary,  is  to  remind  us  of  the  su- 
preme need  of  justice  in  the  relations  of  men  and  nations, 
and  of  the  duty  that  still  belongs  to  us — not  less  than  it 
belongs  to  others — to  give  our  best  thought  and  effort  to 
the  establishment  of  peace  upon  true  foundations. 

— Anonymous. 


YOU  HAVE  COME  HOME  FROM  FRANCE 

You  have  come  home  across  the  sea  from  France, 

And  for  the  arm  that  wrapped  me  ere  you  went. 

There  is  an  empty  sleeve,  and  for  the  glance 

You  gave  that  bade  me  wait  and  strive  to  be  content 

There  is  an  empty  gaze,  as  one  in  trance, 

Whose  life  still  lingers  here  and  still  is  spent. 

You  have  come  home  across  the  sea  from  France! 
Have  you  come  home,  you  stalwart  man  that  left, 


Armistice  Day  Program 


Or  is  it  someone  else  who  comes  perchance 
With  sightless  eyes  and  sleeve  of  arm  bereft? 
Nay,  in  the  courage  of  your  step's  advance 
I  read  the  limit  of  their  cruel  theft; 
Your  dear  arm  and  your  dearer  eyes  they  stole, 
They  could  not  steal  your  soul. 

— Jean.  Rushmore  Patterson. 


THE  BIVOUAC  OF  THE  DEAD 

The  muffled  drum's  sad  roll  has  beat 

The  soldier's  last  tattoo; 
No  more  on  life's  parade  shall  meet 

That  brave  and  fallen  crew*. 
On  fame's  eternal  camping  ground 

Their  silent  tents  are  spread, 
And  Glory  guards  with  solemn  round 

The  bivouac  of  the  dead. 

No  rumor  of  the  foe's  advance 

Now  swells  upon  the  wind; 
No  troubled  thought  at  midnight  haunts 

Of  loved  ones  left  behind; 
No  vision  of  the  morrow's  strife 

The  warrior's  dream  alarms; 
No  braying  horn  or  screaming  fife 

At  dawn  shall  call  to  arms. 

Their  shivered  swords  are  red  with  rust; 

Their  plumed  heads  are  bowed; 
Their  haughty  banner,  trailed  in  dust, 

Is  now  their  martial  shroud; 
And  plenteous  funeral  tears  have  washed 

The  red  stains  from  each  brow; 
And  the  proud  forms,  by  battle  gashed, 

Are  free  from  anguish  now. 


Armistice  Day  Program 


The  neighing  troop,  the  flashing  blade, 

The  bugle's  stirring  blast, 
The  charge,  the  dreadful  cannonade. 

The  din  and  shout  are  passed. 
Nor  war's  wild  note,  nor  glory's  peal, 

Shall  thrill  with  fierce  delight 
Those  breasts  that  nevermore  shall  feel 

The  rapture  of  the  fight. 

Like  the  fierce  northern  hurricane 

That  sweeps  his  great  plateau, 
Flushed  with  the  triumph  yet  to  gain, 

Came  down  the  serried  foe. 
Who  heard  the  thunder  of  the  fray 

Break  o'er  the  field  beneath, 
Knew  well  the  watchword  of  that  day 

Was  "Victory  or  Death!" 

(Three  stanzas  omitted  here.) 

Rest  on,  embalmed  and  sainted  dead ! 

Dear  as  the  blood  ye  gave; 
No  impious  footsteps  here  shall  tread 

The  herbage  of  your  grave; 
Nor  shall  your  glory  be  forgot 

While  Fame  her  record  keeps, 
Or  Honor  points  the  hallowed  spot 

Where  Valor  proudly  sleeps. 

Yon  marble  minstrel's  voiceless  stone 

In  deathless  song  shall  tell 
When  many  a  vanquished  year  hath  flown, 

The  story  how  ye  fell. 
Nor  wreck,  nor  change,  nor  winter's  blight, 

Nor  Time's  remorseless  doom, 
Can  dim  one  ray  of  holy  light 

That  gilds  your  glorious  tomb. 

*  "Few;'  in  original. 

— Theodore  O'Hara. 


Armistice  Day  Program 


UNKNOWN 
* 

From  the  grave  of  the  Unknown  Soldier  the  crowds 
melted  away.  The  great  men  of  the  nations,  who  had 
stood  there  bareheaded,  stepped  into  their  cars  and  were 
whirled  back  to  town.  The  music  of  the  bands  grew  faint 
and  ceased. 

Ail  afternoon  little  parties  of  curious,  reverent  folk 
came  and  stopped,  and  went  on  again  until  finally  only 
the  guard  remained.  The  day  ended.  Night  came  silent- 
ly and  threw  over  the  grave  the  healing  mantle  of 
darkness. 

Then  a  strange  thing  happened! 

Three  dim  figures  from  nowhere  gathered  and  stood 
uncovered  beside  the  tomb.  No  word  of  greeting  passed 
between  them;  they  seemed  to  know  each  other  well. 
Slowly,  one  after  another,  they  stooped  and  read  the 
freshly  carved  inscription.    Then  the  oldest  spoke. 

"Things  are  improving  a  bit  for  us  Unknown,"  he 
said.  "I  fought  with  Leonidas  at  Thermopylae.  We  fell 
side  by  side,  we  and  the  other  two  hundred  and  ninety - 
nine.  Our  bones  are  mingled  with  the  dust  and  rocks. 
No  one  marked  our  resting  place.  Our  names  have  per- 
ished, but  we  held  the  pass. 

"My  mother  wept  when  I  failed  to  return/'  he  con- 
tinued. "Night  after  night  she  waited  at  the  window 
until  it  was  foolish  to  hope  any  longer.  Then  she,  too, 
wanted  to  die.  But  the  neighbors  came  in  and  cheered 
her.  4You  have  given  a  son  to  save  your  country,'  they 
cried.  'The  Persians  are  driven  back  and  Greece  is 
freed.    He  died,  but  he  left  us  a  better  world'." 

The  Unknown  paused  for  a  moment,  his  voice  grew 
dull  and  hard. 

"The  Romans  swept  over  the  Greece  that  I  died  for," 
he  said.  "The  barbarians  swept  over  Rome.  I  some- 
times wonder  whether  it  was  worth  while  to  die  at 
twenty-eight — to  sleep  at  Thermopylae,  unknown." 

"I  fought  with  Charles  Martel  at  Tours,"  the  second 
soldier  said.    "We  turned  back  the  Arab  hosts;  we  saved 


Armistice  Day  Program 


Europe  from  Mohammedanism;  we  kept  it  a  Christian 
continent." 

"  'It  is  splendid,'  they  said  to  my  mother,  'splendid 
to  sacrifice  a  son  on  the  altar  of  peace  and  good-will.' 

"That  was  twelve  hundred  years  ago,"  the  second 
soldier  said.  "And  where  is  the  peace  that  we  died  for? 
Where  is  the  faith?    The  good-will?" 

The  third  Unknown  had  stood  with  Wellington  at 
Waterloo.  It  was  a  high  enthusiasm  that  had  carried 
him  there — the  vision  of  a  world  free  from  tyranny  and 
wrong.  He  fell  and  was  buried  in  a  trench,  under  a  rude 
cross  marked  "Unknown." 

"We  thought  it  was  to  be  the  world's  last  great 
battle,"  he  said.  "There  would  be  no  more  wars,  no  more 
youthful  lives  snuffed  out,  no  more  mothers  waiting  and 
weeping  at  home. 

"But  a  century  went  by  and  there  came  a  war  be- 
side which  ours  seemed  a  little  thing.  Our  friend  over 
whom  the  bands  played  today  was  one  of  millions  who 
gave  their  lives.  Men  have  heaped  honors  on  him  such 
as  we  never  had.  Do  the  honors  mean  that  the  hearts  of 
men  have  changed,  I  wonder?  They  broke  faith  with 
us;  will  they  keen  faith  with  him?" 

The  three  dim  figures  disappeared.  The  moon 
stood  guard  over  the  silent  grave.  In  the  East  the  first 
rays  of  the  morning  crept  into  the  sky.  They  reached 
out  vaguely,  hesitatingly,  touching  the  city  of  Washing- 
ton where  men  were  to  gather  that  day  to  speak  of  peace 
— touching  an  inscription  which  the  nation  had  cut  in  the 
stone  above  the  body  of  its  unknown  soldier. 

A  solemn  inscription;  a  nation's  promise  that  he 
who  lies  there  dead  shall  not  have  died  in  vain. 

The  world  has  made  that  promise  before;  all  its  un- 
known dead  have  died  in  that  faith.  And  the  promise 
has  died  with  them. 

Will  it  die  again? 

We  told  that  boy  when  he  marched  away  that  he  was 
fighting  a  war  to  end  all  wars.  He  fell,  believing;  and 
we  have  buried  and  carved  an  inscription  over  his  tomb. 


10  Armistice  Day  Program 

But  the  real  inscription  will  not  be  written  on  any 
stone;    it  will   stand   in   the  dictionaries  of  the   future. 
Only  by  writing  it  thus  can  the  world  keep  faith  with 
the  long  sad  procession  of  its  unknown  heroes  whom  it 
has  lied  to  and  cheated  and  fooled. 
This  will  be  the  inscription: 
War 
An  Armed  Contest  Between  Nations — 
Now  Obsolete 
Unknown 

— Bruce  Barton. 


IN   MEMORY   OF  AMERICA'S   DEAD 
IN  THE  GREAT  WAR 

EPICEDIUM 

No  more  for  them  shall  evening's  rose  inclose, 
Nor  Dawn's  emblazoned  panoplies  be  spread; 
Alike  the  Rain's  warm  kiss  and  stalwart  snows 
Unminded,  fall  upon  each  hallowed  head. 
But  tlie  bugles,  as  they  lea}}  and  wildly  sing, 
Rejoice      .       .       .       remembering. 

The  guns'  mad  music  their  young  ears  have  known — 
War's  lullabies  that  moaned  on  Flanders'  Plain; 
Tonight  the  wind  walks  on  them,  still  as  stone, 
Where  they  lie  huddled  close  as  riven  grain. 
But  the  Drums,  reverberating,  proudly  roll — 
They  love  a  Soldier's  soul. 

With  arms     outflung     and     eyes     that    laughed     at 

Death, 
They  drank  the  wine  of  sacrifice  and  loss; 
For  them  a  life  time  spanned  a  burning  breath, ' 
And  Truth  they  visioned  clean  of  earthly  dross, 
But  the  Fifes — can  ye  not  hear  their  lusty  shriek? 

They  knoiv  and  now  they  speak. 


Armistice  Day  Program  11 

The  lazy  drift  of  cloud,  the  noonday  hum 

Of  vagrant  bees,  the  lark's  untrammeled  song", 

Shall  gladden  them  no  more,  who  lie  dumb 

In  Death's  strange  sleep,  yet  once  were  swift  and 

strong. 
But  the  Bells  that  to  all  living  listeners  peal 

With  joy  their  deeds  reveal! 

They  have  given  their  lives  with  bodies  bruised  and 

broken, 
Upon  their  country's  altar  they  have  bled; 
They  have  left  as  priceless  heritage  a  token, 
That  Honor  lives  forever  with  the  dead. 
And  the  Bugles,  as  their  clear  notes  rise  and  fall   i 

They  answer,  knowing  all. 

— /.  Carson  Miller. 


HOMEWARD  BOUND 

Into  the  west  of  the  waters  on  the  living  ocean's  foam, 
Into  the  west  of  the  sunset  where  the  young  adventurers 

roam, 
Into  the  west  of  the  shining  star,  I  am  sailing,  sailing, 

home. 
Home  from  the  lonely  cities,  time's  wreck,  and  the  naked 

woe, 
Home  through  the  clean  great  waters,  where  freeman's 

pennants  blow. 
Home  to  the  land  men  dream  of,  where  all  the  nations  go ; 
'Tis  home  but  to  be  on  the  waters,  'tis  home  already  here, 
Through  the  weird  red-billowing  sunset,  into  the  west  to 

steer. 
To  fall  asleep  in  the  rocking  dark  with  home  a  day  more 

near. 

By  morning  light  the  ship  holds  on,  alive  with  happy 

freight, 
A  thousand  hearts  with  one  still  joy,  and  with  one  hope 

elate, 


12  Armistice  Day  Program 

To  reach  the  land  that  mothered  them  and  sweetly  guides 

their  fate; 
Whether  the  purple  furrow  heaps  the  bow  with  dazzling 

spray, 
Or  buried  in  the  green-based  masses  they  dip  the  storm- 
swept  day, 
Or  the  white  flag  ribbons  e'er  them,  the  strong  ship  holds 

her  way; 
And  when  another  day  is  done,  by  the  star  of  love  we 

steer, 
To  the  land  of  all  that  we  love  best,  and  all  that  we  hold 

dear ; 
We  are  sailing  westward,  homeward;  our  western  home 

is  near. 

— George  Edward  Woodberry. 


THE  THOUSAND  YEARS  OF  PEACE 

Ring  out  a  slowly  dying  cause, 
And  ancient  forms  of  party  strife; 
Ring  in  the  nobler  modes  of  life, 
With  sweeter  manners,  purer  laws. 

Ring  out  false  pride  in  place  and  blood, 
The  civic  slander  and  the  spite; 
Ring  in  the  love  of  truth  and  right, 
Ring  in  the  common  love  of  good. 

Ring  out  old  shapes  of  foul  disease; 
Ring  out  the  narrowing  lust  of  gold; 
Ring  out  the  thousand  wars  of  old, 
Ring  in  the  thousand  years  of  peace. 

— Lord  Alfred  Tennyson. 


ANOTHER  PATRIOTIC  MONOLOG 


"WHEN  MONTY  CAME  HOME 
FROM  THE  MARNE" 


By    SEYMOUR   S.    TfSSALS 


HTHE  STORY  tells  of  a  widow's  son,  apeace- 
ful  young  i'aimer,  who  enlisted  In  the  U. 
S.  Marines  and  lost  an  aim.  as  his  father  lost 
an  arm  at  Sbiloh.  A  stirring  description  of  a 
gas  attack  and  how  the  Marines  won  the 
fight. 

The  climax  is  reached  when  Monty  comes 
back  and  drives  the  cattle  up  the  lane. 

Suitable  for  any  reader  and  a  number  that 
will  be  welcome  on  any  program. 

<?g-jj"~PR5CE  25  CENTS  ,|:j{j§jJS> 

THE  ELDfilDGE  ENTERTAINMENT  HOUSE 

FMNKLIN,  OHIO  aiso  fijSi  DENVER,  C010. 


Novel  Action  Songs  for  Young  Ladies 

2£j|ERE  is  a  list  of  songs  along  the  "stunt"  order, 
/*»f  suitable  for  entertainment  programs,  club 
programs,  and  social  affairs.  Plenty  of  fun  and 
action. 


THE   HAT  OF   O'i  HEP   DAYS 

Words  and  music  by  Harry  C.  Eldridge.  Everyone 
knows  how  ridiculous  the  changing  styles  make  out-of- 
date  hats  appear.  The  song  is  based  on  this  fact,  and 
the  appearance  of  these  "hats  of  other  days"  will  cause 
loads   of    merriment.        50c. 

MIXED   RECIPES 

A  Domestic  Science  tragedy  (  ?)  set  to  music  by  H.  C. 
Eldridge.  The  young  ladies  of  the  class  lose  their  notes 
and  have  to  get  material  ready  for  inspection  without 
them.      Trouble    ensues.      Good    novelty.         50c. 

t    CAN'T    DO    A    THING 

WITH     MY     HAIR     SINCE     IT'S     WASHED 

Words  and  music  by  Harry  C.  Eldridge.  Did  you  ever 
hear  the  above  expression?  They  all  say  it.  The  song 
is  for  a  merry  group  of  girls  who  have  trouble  in  keep- 
ing- their   hair  in  bounds.     A  jolly  song.        LQcr. 

REDUCED  TO  $1.99 

Words  and  music  by  H.  C.  Eldridge.  The  figures  in  a 
dry  goods  window  are  indignant  at  having  to  partici- 
pate in  so  many  "reduction  sales,"  and,  revolting, 
Wrilk  off  the  stage  after  telling  their  troubles  in  song. 
The  eccentric  motion  of  the  figures  makes  a  laughable 
number.        56c. 

THE    WINNING   WAY?    OF    GRANDMA'S    DAYS 

Words  and  irmsie  by  H-  C.  E'dridge.  Sung  in  costume, 
this  portrays  the  many  wholesome  and  pleasing  cus- 
toms of  "ye  olden  times."  Directions  for  minuet  in- 
cluded.       5Cc. 

MY   ARROW   COLLAR   MAN 

Words    by    Juliet    Barker,    music    by    H.    C.    Eldridge.    A 

novelty  song  for  young  lady  with  optional  chorus  of 
girls.        5Cc. 

NOBODY  KNOWS  WHAT  THE  NEXT  STYLE  WILL  BE 

By  Sarah  Eldridge.  The  ever-changing  mode  of  hair 
drrssirg  keeps  us  all  guessing  what  the  next  style  will 
he.  Sun*  yy  four  or  more  girls,  each  w;th  different 
style    of    hair    dre^3    ar.d    appropriate   costumes.         50c. 

WHEN    POLLY    PUT  THE   PEPPER   IN    THE   TEA 

By  H.  C.  Eldridge.  Amusing  musical  novelty  telling  of 
absent-minded  Pcl!y  who  served  pepyer  instead  of  su- 
F«r   in   the   tea.      For  2   or  more   ladies.        50c. 


Eldridge    Entertainment.    House 

"THF   HOUSE   THAT  HELPS" 
FRANKLIN,    OHIO  also  DENVER,    COLO. 

S22   S.  Ogden 


